


Damn it, Cas, we're having a moment

by bees_stories



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Domestic Castiel/Dean Winchester, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Evolving Relationship, M/M, Mark of Cain, Picnics, Season/Series 10, Starting Over
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-29
Updated: 2015-01-29
Packaged: 2018-03-09 15:25:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3254783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bees_stories/pseuds/bees_stories
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is shutting everyone out. Cas and Sam conspire to get him to open up and accept a small measure of comfort. Generic spoilers for season 10.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Damn it, Cas, we're having a moment

***

Cas asks Dean out to lunch. Which is just … weird.

But Dean's tired of feeling cooped up. And he's even more tired of feeling Sam's eyes boring concerned holes into the back of his neck, so he texts back, "Sure. Why not?"

Cas replies with a screen full of smiley faces. 

The next day, when Cas shows up, he's radiating enthusiasm. Dean gets a sinking feeling as they pile into the pimpmobile and Sam waves goodbye. The feeling grows more intense as, instead of pointing the car towards town, Cas heads off in the opposite direction. 

"It's such a lovely day, I thought we'd have a picnic."

Dean raises an eyebrow but then he shrugs. It _is_ pretty nice out. The sun is shining brightly, although there's rain in the forecast for later in the day. He adjusts his shades and tries not to get too jumpy. He can't shake the feeling that he's being set up. 

Then again, he's almost constantly on edge. It's the Mark. It _needs_. Mostly it needs things Dean is trying avoid. Killing people for one. Or screwing them. Drinking himself into a coma. The Mark of Cain is remarkably easy to please in that respect. 

They reach the turnoff for the local reservoir. Cas drops two bucks into the honor box for the camping area and carefully guides his land whale up the narrow track that leads to a hiker's trail-head. "We walk from here," he says before popping the trunk. 

Cradled between the spare tire and a couple of duffel bags is an enormous cooler. "Could you?" Cas gestures at the cooler. 

Dean shrugs. He takes one handle and Cas takes the other one and between the pair of them they lug the thing about a mile before they reach their final destination. 

It's nice. There's a view of the water and of the dam on one side and enough trees and bushes surrounding them that they're blocked from the view of passing hikers. Dean stretches the kink out of his shoulder and watches as Cas unpacks half a sporting goods store from the cooler. 

There's a neatly folded tarp on top. And then underneath that, a second tarp and a bundle of rope. The tarps are followed by a pair of cushions that could be used as floatation devices in the event of a water landing, and some tent pegs.

"Is there any food in there?" Dean asks. He's only partly kidding. But given that Cas doesn't have to eat, he wouldn't put it past the angel to drag him half way across the county and then forget the lunch he'd promised. 

"Never fear," Cas says as he produces the first of several plastic sacks. 

Dean boggles as a banquet's worth of food is unpacked. There's fried chicken and three kinds of sandwiches cut into little triangles. Stuffed eggs. Potato chips. Coleslaw and potato salad. A big bunch of purple grapes is followed by an entire apple pie and a half gallon jug of lemonade. 

"Damn, Cas." Dean takes the cushion Cas offers and makes himself comfortable, using a convenient tree as a backrest. "I'm impressed." And so is the Mark. It practically _purrs_ at the ridiculous amount of food before them.

Cas beams as he loads up a plate and hands it over. "I asked the woman at the deli to help me decide what to get. She said that for a picnic you want lots of choices so that you can nibble a little, enjoy the scenery and the company, and then nibble some more."

Dean's ravenous. The last thing he wants to do is pick at his food, let alone interrupt his meal with conversation and contemplation of Nature's Bounty, but he gets where the woman, and by extension, Cas, is coming from. There have been times – long ago, mostly forgotten times – when wasting an entire day at some lake was all the vacation he and Sammy ever got. Those were golden days, and now Cas was trying to give him another. "She wasn't wrong," he agrees, chewing around a deviled egg. 

Cas raises his cup of lemonade in a toast and then takes a sip. He's been doing that more and more, Dean notices. Sharing a beer or a whiskey when they meet up. It makes him less conspicuous when they're out in public, that's for sure. But here, in this secluded place, there's no reason for it, unless he's trying to make the picnic as relaxing as possible. 

His hypersensitive nerves jangle. Once again, Dean has the feeling that there's more to the afternoon then a simple picnic. Finally, he gives into his misgivings. "Cas, this is great. It really is. But I gotta ask – " He waves a drumstick around, encompassing the red and white checked picnic blanket and the secluded clearing beyond. "– what's this all about?"

Cas sighs. The dark look Dean's got so used to seeing on Sammy's face transfers itself to Cas's. "I've been worried about you, Dean. I was hoping if I could get you away from it all for a while, you might open up to me and talk." 

Dean puts his plate down, no longer hungry. He gets to his feet and starts to pace. Pent up energy surges through his veins and sends his temper soaring. He feels mousetrapped and defensive as hell. "I talk." 

Cas shakes his head. He clambers to his feet, takes a step in Dean's direction, and then he decides to stand his ground instead. "'Fine' when I call or text isn't talking. It's the opposite of talking." 

The Mark pumps adrenaline into Dean's blood. 'Any confrontation in a storm', it seems to say. Punching Cas in the face might stop him from pushing. Dean takes a ragged breath, unwilling to rise to the Mark's bait. Cas is only trying to help. Damn him.

"Sam is worried." 

"Sam put you up to this." Dean sees red. He has a visceral fantasy of shoving Sam's teeth down his throat. He shuts his eyes against it and pushes it away. When he opens them again there's nothing but trees. Trees and a worried looking Cas. "Doesn't he know you've got enough on your plate without taking on my crap too?"

Cas gives him a mournful smile. "Dean, haven't you figured out that with or without your crap, you're important to me?" He extends a hand. "I want to help. Even if it's just to listen when you need to vent. Do you remember back when we were first friends? You used to talk to me, even when I wasn't there. You'd pray. Well, sort of. 'Hey, Cas, I don't know if you've got your ears on' was usually how you'd start. I'd listen, and even when I couldn't intercede directly, I'd do what I could." 

He'd stared up at the ceiling during sleepless nights. Or leaned against the fender of the Impala, sick with worry because everything was spinning out of his control. He'd silently, and sometimes not so silently, spilled his guts to Cas and afterward, he always felt lighter, as if he wasn't the only one carrying the crap can. Praying to Cas, even when he couldn't see a tangible result, had made him feel better. 

"I remember." It costs him to admit it, and Dean wonders if that's yet another side effect of the Mark. Does it want him isolated, locked down like the lid on a pressure cooker, until he's forced to explode in a cathartic fury? "What's your point?"

Cas doesn't reply right away. Instead, he walks over to the edge of the clearing and stares out onto the water. "When humans refer to a disagreement that's been forgiven, they say 'that's water under the bridge'. "

The abrupt change of subject throws him. "So?" Dean replies, not getting where Cas is going at all with his train of thought. But he also knows that the fastest way to find out is to hop on board and hang on for the ride. 

"They also say when a relationship has broken down under the weight of too many trials that 'there is too much water under the bridge'." He turns his mournful gaze onto Dean. "Is that why you won't let me help you now? Is that why you no longer pray when your heart is full of sorrow and anger? Because our relationship is too broken for you to trust me enough to lean on me?"

The simmering feeling is back. Dean's never been good with interpersonal relationship crap at the best of times. The Winchester Way is to fall out, patch things up ( or don't) and move on. Him and Cas have been through a lot. They'd lied to one another. They'd betrayed one another. Always with the best intentions. But those lies and betrayals left scars behind. Tender spots that didn't bear up to rough handling.

"I don't know," Dean says softly. "Maybe. We get too close and we hurt each other. Even if we don't mean to. I don't want to take you down with me this time. Sammy I can't keep clear of the blast zone. He won't let me. But you, Cas, this time I want to keep you clear." 

"By shutting me out?" 

Cas's pain is palpable. The Mark revels in it. It goads Dean to stick the proverbial knife deeper and give it a twist. 

"It's for your own good!" Dean all but shouts. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm not the only one here on borrowed time. I'm not gonna let you waste what little juice you've got left on me!" 

"You sound like you care." Cas doesn't shout, but he might as well have. His voice cuts through the red haze, rending the mist.

_"You think?"_

They stare at each other. Their chests heave with frustration. Dean realizes that Cas's eyes are welling up and his are too and something deep at his core gives way as he gains control over the Mark. 

"Damn it, Cas, we're having a moment, aren't we." 

Dean hates feeling this vulnerable. His emotions open and exposed. It's the kind of weakness his father had tried to train out of him. But John Winchester was no match for the Mark of Cain. Dean's tried. God knows he's tried. But he can no longer carry the burden alone. 

Cas reaches out his hand. Dean hesitates and then he takes it and lets himself be reeled into an embrace. He stands there, resting his bowed forehead against Cas's, knowing there's no dishonor in surrender as Cas's lips brush against his mouth. For the first time in weeks the persistent darkness that surrounds Dean seems to lift, and he feels a sense of true peace as Cas shares his grace.

"Better?" Cas asks softly when they part. 

Dean nods, conscious he is still being held in a loose embrace. He knows he should reclaim what's left of his tattered dignity and pull away, but this moment has been a long time coming, and he doesn't want to end it. "Yeah. Thanks. Cas – "

"I'm here for you, Dean," Cas all but whispers. "Whatever you need. Whenever you need it. Even if you're too stubborn to ask." 

"If I can't get rid of the Mark then I've gotta learn how to deal with it. Control it." 

Cas cups Dean's chin in his palm. He holds Dean's gaze with his and the blue of his eyes pierces Dean to the core. "You will. But I make you this vow; you won't have to do it alone."

end


End file.
